


Increasing the Possibility

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Daenerys should stop interfering, F/M, War, making an heir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9474296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Another one of my 'ficlets' that I've been asked to post as a stand-alone fic.Queen Daenerys has agreed to use her Dragon Children to help battle with the looming threat of the dead.... but only if Jon is wed to Sansa and works on producing some little Targaryen heirs for her.Battle is upon them sooner than expected and Jon needs to leave to go to war.SMUT AHEAD





	1. Chapter 1

"Sansa" Jon sighed with no small amount of irritation in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. "We...we don't have time, Daenerys will be here soon, her camp is beginning to stir and I'll....I'll need to leave".

"I know that Jon" Sansa huffed with her hands on her hips. "But we've hardly tried to keep up our end of the agreement have we"?

It was true. In order to coerce the Targaryen Queen into using her dragon fire - risking her 'children's' lives to help defeat the threat of the marching army of dead flesh, Jon and Sansa agreed to wed and to produce her heirs to the Iron Throne.

Jon, having already fought the threat beyond the wall, had agreed quickly, knowing that the Dragon Queen's aid was their best and only option. Sansa conceded also, although Jon suspected it was not without her reservations and he was loathe to force the second condition upon her as if she were a brood mare.

In truth, all parties of the agreement had believed that there were many moons between the beginnings of their deal and the moment that the armies of the North and the Dragon Queen would need to act. But the dark and cold of the night soon began to bleed into the daylight hours. Snows became heavier and lakes refused to thaw when word came from Castle Black that the enemy was on the rise. They needed to move out - war was upon them sooner than expected.

The newly married Lord and Lady of Winterfell had only coupled twice, the possibility of a babe taking root within Sansa's belly seeming unlikely but unknown.

"There's no way of knowing if you are already with child Sansa... and Daenerys... she... she won't back out now... she can't... it's no fault of ours that the fight is upon us sooner than expected.... don't...just...don't worry about it". Jon explained, distracted whilst moving about his chambers, still gathering a few items to take with him on the march northwards.

"It's....it's not that" Sansa responded, watching Jon as he travelled the room. He stilled and took in her worried expression, pausing to allow her to finish her thought aloud. "I'm not worried about Daenerys, I......you may fall...you might never return...and I.... I do want a babe Jon....if you are lost to me then please, please let's increase the chances that I'll have a family...we are the last Starks left" she whispered, looking on the verge of tears whilst twisting her hands in her skirts.

Jon had not contemplated this want of Sansa's. In truth, he had not thought much upon his cousin, bar making sure she was completely sure upon agreeing to their 'deal' - Jon would not force Sansa into anything but was too deep in thought about battle and the wars to come to think on much else.

His eyes shifted between Sansa's pretty pleading face and the window that overlooked the Targaryen camp where Daenerys' men were taking down their tents, preparing to move onwards to battle.

"We don't have much time... I have to go..." he repeated "it....it wouldn't be like..." Jon tried to explain as he remembered their only encounters. He had tried so very hard to help her relax and make the experience as agreeable as a once bastard-half-brother-turned-cousin could do for a fine Lady like Sansa. But now, there would be no time for that - it would need to be quick, it would need to be... fucking.

"I know that Jon... we can be quick" Sansa said as if addressing his thoughts. He watched her features morph from nervousness to resolute.

"You know it would not guarantee anything don't you Sansa" he sighs.

"Yes... but it would increase the possibility" she stated, whilst holding a splayed hand to her flat stomach.

Jon took a moment to regard his wife. If circumstances were different he knows he would not have trapped her with him so. He knows that 'Bastard Prince' or not, she could do better, deserved better. That he no more wishes to die with the possibility of being a father to a child he'll never know then she a mother to a fatherless babe. But - If this was truly what she wants then who was he to deny her?

"Alright" Jon conceded "quickly then....and I feel I'll need to apologise in advance" he said, trying his best at a little humour to break the gathering tension - despite the truth to his statement.

Sansa smiled at her small victory before suddenly putting on a very matter-of-fact air about her whilst instructing Jon to pull down his breeches and small clothes and sit on the overstuffed armchair. He looked at her in question.

"Just do it Jon" she ordered as she casually reached below her skirts and discarded of her own smallclothes, the robins egg blue silk underthings now lay crumpled on the stone floor of Jon's chambers.

Jon absentmindedly licked his lips whilst staring at the silks. He should probably be a little abashed that that one small action of Sansa's was enough to harden his cock, ready for the job. Not this time though, time was something they did not have.

He did as instructed and sat with his breeches and smallclothes bunched down to the tops of his boots and watched, slightly in awe as Sansa gathered her skirts and perched upon his lap. Who was this woman? This Lady now straddling him in the midday and not tucked beneath her furs in the safety of the night, candlelight low and clad in a high necked thick cotton shift? He knew she had seen things, experienced things with that vile slug of a man Baelish but Jon had never pressed her to divulge anything to him. She did not owe him all of her truths.

His thoughts were interrupted when his breath caught jaggedly in his throat as Sansa wrapped a hand around his cock. A groan flew from his lips as she gave him a few strokes. Their eyes flicked to each other's and he was unsure as to whether he owed his Lady wife an apology. She had never touched him like this before, her soft delicate hand a pleasant contrast to his usual calloused one.

Seemingly satisfied that Jon was ready to perform, Sansa's hand left him but stayed beneath her many skirts. Jon watched as her arm continued to make jerking movements while the other gripped the back of the chair as Sansa closed her eyes. It took him longer than perhaps it should have to realise that she was readying herself to take him in. The thought of Sansa touching herself having never entered his head before meant that he had to bite down hard on his tongue to cease another groan from leaving his suddenly dry throat and again, he wondered who she was - this woman before him?

Sansa sunk herself down upon him slowly, with closed eyes and teeth lightly gnawing at her bottom lip. Jon increased the hard grip he had on the armrests of the chair as he stared intently up at her face a few inches from his own, his breath hot on her chin. Despite the awkward exchange before the act, and the business-like manner in which Sansa was carrying out the experience, Jon couldn't help be aroused beyond measure from her wetness and heat that took him in whole. Once fully seated she rolled her hips a little making Jon feel that he had temporarily lost his sight.

They had to be quick - he knew that and yet he found himself holding back his peak as he watched Sansa with fascination as she bounced and rocked on him. Gods she was skilled at this. Would he have found that out if they had had more time as man and wife - to explore each other - before battle took him away?

There came a loud knock at his chamber door before a serving boy announced through the wood that Queen Daenerys had arrived and was awaiting him in the Great Hall. Sansa's eyes flew open in panic and Jon couldn't keep the annoyance from his tone as he hollered back at the boy to inform the Dragon Queen that he will be slightly delayed.

"It's alright" he said softly as one of his large hands curled around her cheek.

"I don't want you to go" she whispered.

"It'll be alright" was all he could respond with as his other hand came to grip her waist. Sansa nodded and resumed her movements.

Jon didn't want to think of the battle or the Queen waiting for him elsewhere in the castle. He wanted to fall headlong into all consuming thoughts of this beautiful creature writhing in his lap. He wanted to think if nothing but burying himself between her thighs and making her call out his name in a raspy wanton voice. Or of her belly growing thick with his child - not because it was ordered of them but because they both wanted to fill Winterfell's halls with their own brood.

Once again he found himself holding back his release, trying to prolong their encounter so that he may etch its memory onto himself as she rose and fell wet upon his length.

"Would it help if I took my bodice off"? Sansa asked suddenly, breaking the hazy rapture in which he was mesmerised by her.

"What"?

"To...to...help you along?...would it help if I bared myself to you"?

Jon couldn't answer her, he was too consumed with wondering how she managed to sound both innocently unsure and boldly matter-of-fact.

Sansa lost patience with him and began tugging at her laces. She rid herself of her bodice and then pushed down the sleeves of her undershirt, causing it to pool at her hips.

"Gods Sansa - you are perfect" Jon's words disobediently escaped him as he stared at her creamy soft flesh and rose blushed teats. She smiled sweetly as she brought his hands to cup her breasts, urging him to squeeze and caress.

"May I"? Jon asked as he leant his head forward, licking his lips and peering up at Sansa for permission. She nodded her assent and let out a little whimper when Jon lapped his tongue over one of her pebbling teats. Jon growled into her as he continued to lick and suck, Sansa begun to rock her hips over his own and he knew he was not long for spilling inside her.

She set a fast but steady pace as one of her hands relinquished the back of the seat and instead had a firm grip in his hair at the nape of his neck.

Jon was just beginning to think he could hold off his peak a little longer to enjoy the feel of her when her breathing became laboured and a short strangled cry erupted from her panting lips. Jon felt her warm cunny grip him repeatedly, milking him from his seed as he cried out her name and held onto her fiercely.

He was panting into the valley of her breasts, his forehead resting on Sansa's collarbone as she idly stroked her fingers through his hair. Jon sent prayers to all the Gods that he could just stay there, where he was, being enveloped and fussed over by this amazingly brave woman whom he had not realised even existed but an hour ago.

"If the Gods are good to us, you'll return unharmed to meet your son or daughter" Sansa breathed as if hearing his thoughts.

"Aye" he huffed into her skin "Aye, I'd like that very much Sansa".

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is won and Jon just wants to go home.

Jon doesn't really remember how he felt when he delivered the final blow to the Night's King, causing his foe's icy body to shatter unnaturally and sending a bitter cold blast outwards for miles. That blast had thrown Jon's weakened body soaring backwards some considerable feet, his numbed head colliding with the thick trunk of a large gnarled oak tree with an echoing 'thump'. And then the world went black.

That was apparently three days ago - according to the Maester who was appraising Jon's wounds when he woke, the old man seemingly happy with the rate of healing to his head and a large gash on his thigh. Jon tucked in hungrily to the tray of food brought to his sick bed, feeding his battle weary body.

It was a day and a half later that he was hobbling his way as steadily as he could manage through the camp, every now and again being stopped and cheered by both his own men and Daenerys'.

Once he reached her tent, he was pleased to find that fatalities to Daenerys' retinue had been minimal, although they all - like him - seemed to be nursing a casualty or two.

"When do we retreat southward"? He blurted directly after greetings and well wishes. Impatient to put the battles behind him and heal in his own home.

"Four days time, Lord Snow" Tyrion replied, lifting his cup of wine and grinning - as if this answer would please Jon. It did not.

The Hand of the Queen's smile faltered when he noticed Jon's considerable frown. "We need to gather and identify our dead Lord Snow, the now unanimated Wights need to be dealt with and the men deserve some respite to rest, heal, mourn and celebrate before the arduous return home" he said, raising his cup once more before taking another large gulp.

Jon sighed, he could not argue with the Lannister, but it did not do anything to quell his desire to arrive at Winterfell's gates as soon as possible. To see Sansa once again. To find out if he was indeed a father.

Ravens rarely made it to their battle camp and none had come from Winterfell as yet. It had been just over ten moons since his departure from Sansa - ten moons since he'd seen her, really seen her, as she rocked back and forth bare breasted on his lap. When the rare occasion his mind had wandered from the battle plans and training had arisen, his thoughts had turned to Sansa, to the vulnerability she had shown him on his departure day, to the possibility of returning to Winterfell to meet a new little life that he helped to create, that was part of both of them.

He also wondered about the relationship that he would be going back to between himself and Sansa - hastily wed, bedded only thrice between the formality of war talk and council meetings. What kind of foundations of a marriage had they already forged?

As they dined that evening, Jon found it strange not to be discussing matters of great urgency, not to be second guessing an enemy and not to consumed with fear of defeat. He tried to join in with the jovial banter and raucous laughter but in truth, if he could not yet physically be home with his wife then he would rather be alone to think about her.

As he entered his tent late that night, weary from the cacophonous meal and not yet being fully healed, his hand instantly reached for Longclaw's pommel when he suddenly realised he was not alone.

Jon saw movement on his cot and it took him a little too long to realise that two women were playfully touching each others hair and pressing their lips together between giggles. They were both dark haired with bronze skin and appeared to be in an advanced state of undress.

"Oh! You're back Lord Snow" one of the women exclaimed in mock surprise as the other kissed her neck and squeezed her breast. Jon said nothing - his mind taking too long to keep up with the situation.

"Won't you join us"? The same, more bold seeming one of the two purred in a heavy accent, holding out one of her hands to him.

"What are you doing here"? He demanded after remembering how his mouth worked.

"I think you know" the talkative girl smirked as the other now tore her lips from her friends skin and looked at Jon curiously.

"I....I have not sent for..." he started.

"A whore?.....we are a gift from Queen Daenerys, she said you might be in need of a bed warmer or two to help you relax and enjoy yourself" the woman smiled seductively at him.

Jon screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath.

"I thank you but please leave" he forced out of gritted teeth "and tell Queen Daenerys that I am in no such need"!

Without any further words, Jon heard the rustle of the sheets and blankets as the women alighted his cot, he turned his back while they gathered their clothing and left him once again alone in his tent.

He sat on his cot staring at the floor for quite some time - wondering if he had been a fool for sending them away. Jon would then think of dazzling blue eyes and flame red hair and he knew he would gladly be the fool if it meant not hurting her.

*******

The first contact he'd had from his wife since Jon's day of departure arrived in the form of a raven the next day.

Sansa's script was beautiful and flowing, even if the contents were short and to the point - congratulating them on their victory, hoping that injuries are to a minimum and wishing him a safe and speedy journey home.

"No mentions of a babe"? Queen Daenerys asked abruptly when Jon had described the missive from his wife whilst breaking his fast with the Silver Queen.

"No... no mentions of a babe" he concluded in agreement. It was not something he could say he had overlooked when he first read the scroll - perhaps he was not ready to completely dismiss the notion that there could be a baby, but his Aunt was right - should he be a father, Sansa would not have kept it from him.

"Hmmm..." Daenerys hummed in thought "I've been contemplating this for a while.... should you wish it, I shall allow an annulment of your marriage to the Stark girl" the small Queen said before nonchalantly popping a grape into her mouth.

"What"?

Daenerys smiled warmly and placed a comforting hand upon his where it rested on the table. "Over the last few months I've come to be very fond of you nephew....I know that I forced you into this partnership and perhaps it was not the one you wished for". Jon just blinked in response so the Queen continued. "I should like to see you happy Jon, find a girl you love and remarry. I can wait a few years for heirs....not too long mind you" she finished with a wink and a grin.

"I...I..." Jon stammered, finding it difficult to string two words together. "What about Sansa"? He blurted "if our marriage is annulled, she will not have any favourable suitors to replace me... I couldn't do that to her".

"Oh nonsense"! Daenerys scoffed "the heir to Winterfell? Of course she'll have suitors! Besides, I'll make it known that any favourable match will have my Royal backing - she'll have a few to choose from I dare say".

"I will... I will have to talk to Sansa about this" Jon replied, raking a hand through his hair. Did he want this? No - he didn't think so... did he owe it to Sansa to offer her a way out of their forced marriage? Yes.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon returns to Winterfell

It had not escaped him - the idea that perhaps - just perhaps - Sansa had not mentioned a babe in her missive so that the reveal would be even sweeter - so that it was something personal for just them once he returned home. It was a small hope, but one he grasped and held as he pushed his small group of men to ride harder towards Winterfell.

He'd left Queen Daenerys to her own leisurely pace, siting the need to check that the castle would be ready to receive her. In truth, he had no such concern - Sansa was aware of their upcoming arrival and he had no doubts about her hosting abilities.

As his horse clip-clopped into Winterfell's courtyard, he turned his jittery steed in circles, his head whipping this way and that, desperately trying to find Sansa. They were at least a day early than when she would be expecting everyone's return and the surprise on her face when he did lock eyes with her was evident.

Sansa was stood talking to the Stable Master, no doubt about the sudden influx of steeds they were to attempt to house. When she saw him she stood frozen like a statue from the crypt, the piece of parchment she had been grasping fluttered to the cobbled floor. Sansa suddenly took three quick steps towards him before freezing once more.

Jon slid from his horse and strode towards her. Halting in front of Sansa, he realised that he'd never seen her so uncomposed - not that anyone else would have noticed her slightly trembling hands as she wrung them together, the way her breath quickened and how her lips parted to let loose some words only to close again, trapping her voice in her throat.

A few misty breaths swirled in the space between them before Jon realised that he'd been gaping at her and neither of them had spoken. He'd been too busy taking in her every feature as if she was about to be snatched away and he needed to commit her to memory.  
Her vibrant flame red hair, her clear opal skin, rosy lips and cheeks and bright sky blue eyes - eyes that now shimmered with tears that threatened to fall. How had he not taken the time to see her before? To really see her?

"Sansa" he breathed, itching to touch her, to hold her and never let go like she is the anchor to all that is good and pure and lovely - the antithesis of the past months of war.

Just as he makes his mind up to reach out to her and take her hands in his, something seems to click into place with Sansa - her composure returning before his eyes.

"Jon...we were not expecting anyone until tomorrow". She said, forcing her hands to stop twitching by using them to smooth out her skirts.

The Stable Master nods at both of them and retreats to a tack room. Sansa takes a long shuddering exhale and suddenly grasps his forearm with a squeeze "you came back" she smiled a watery smile, her eyes dancing around the fresh scars on his face.

Their conversations over the first few hours of Jon's return consisted mainly of how Winterfell had coped with the many poor souls who'd fled from The Gift and other areas, seeking the protection of the castle and their Lady. Sansa had done all that she could and more, never turning anyone away and somehow finding enough to keep bellies from being completely empty.

They did not touch upon the horrors that Jon had endured, Sansa somehow knowing he was not ready to recount it.

********

Jon had requested a hot bath for his weary muscles that evening. Sighing at the sight of his chambers, The Lord's Chambers - he wondered if they would ever become 'their' chambers.

He was reminded of Daenerys' 'offer' of annulment once he had lowered himself into the steaming hot water with a groan. He could dismiss it - he WANTED to dismiss it and never breathe a word of the notion again. But that was not fair. He had to at least mention it to Sansa - let her decide. The Gods know she didn't have much of a choice when it came to entering their marriage. No, she can have a choice now - he can give her that much at least.

Jon hadn't realised that he'd fallen asleep in the water until he was awoken by a gasp and someone calling his name. He coughed and spluttered out the now tepid water that had come up to just under his nose as he'd apparently slumped sleepily into the tub.

"Sansa"! Jon exclaimed once realising who it was that had saved him from his bathtub slumber. He grabbed the wash rag from the side of the bath to cover himself below the water as he sat up.

"It will be a peculiar song, will it not"? Sansa asked with a smirk. Jon looked at her quizzically. "The hero who defeated the threat of the dead beyond The Wall, only to drown in the bath"? Sansa said with an amused cocked brow.

Jon made a noise somewhere between a huff and a snicker. "I think perhaps I'm more fatigued than I realised" he said almost to himself.

Sansa's features softened "you're allowed to be tired Jon". She walked towards him, Jon's hand instinctively held onto the washcloth that was covering him. Sansa ducked her head and smiled to herself.

She knelt behind him and picked up the soap and lathered it on Jon's aching back. There was almost silence while she worked his muscles with the slippery suds, kneading and smoothing - Jon couldn't help the odd groan of satisfaction.

When her hands came up to his shoulders, Jon reached an arm across himself and place his large hand on her delicate one where it stilled on his shoulder. "There is no babe"? He asked, only turning his head a fraction.

The pause Sansa took before answering spoke of her own disappointment. "No Jon, there is no babe...I'm sorry".

"You have nothing to apologise for Sansa" he squeezed her hand for emphasis just before she moved it from his grasp and returned to her ministrations. "I was hopeful....I did not bleed the first month...but it came to naught".

"I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault...it's no-ones".

"Sansa" Jon started deciding that if he doesn't say it now, he may never get the words out "Daenerys has given me...has given us an offer..." he gulped and stared down into the water that was gradually turning milky from the soap.

"An offer"? Sansa parroted in query.

"Yes... she....she is aware that ours is not a love match" Sansa's hands stilled "and that there could be....tensions....considering our history as siblings...and...and what with you not yet being with child..."

"Jon" Sansa interrupted his rambling "what did the Queen offer"?

"An annulment" he breathed quickly, his words followed by a few beats of charged silence whereby Jon was both scared and sorely tempted to look behind him at her expression. He opted to stay still and watched the beads of water drip from his hair.

"Oh" she finally said, the one word softly piercing the silence followed by the quiet splashes as she plunged the soap back into the water.

"And what do you think of the offer"? She asked his back.

"I...." _I want to dismiss it...I want to tell the Queen she can keep her sodding offer and take it with her back to the South...I don't want to loose you....but you deserve a choice..._ "I think you should consider it....consider what would make you happy".

The quiet that followed Jon's words was almost unbearable. His brain scrambled for something to say to fill the void when suddenly Sansa rose to her feet. "The water is cooling rapidly Jon, I wouldn't stay in there too much longer". She strode quickly across the room as she spoke, turning to face him as she met the door "I'll have Betsy bring supper to you - I expect you'll want your rest".

And with a click of the door she was gone, leaving Jon cold in the bath.

*************

Daenerys and her men's arrival broke the morning's peace. Jon was still abed, he had expected to sleep soundly considering how tired he felt, but his slumber fell into a pattern of fits and starts. He groaned at the noise outside his window - noise that reminded him of war and horrors....and possible annulments.

After stumbling about his chambers, finding some newly made clothes that could have only been created by his wife - his Sansa - he splashed the sleep away from his face with the icy water from his wash basin and ambled down to the Great Hall.

And there she was, flame haired and beautiful and welcoming the Queen - another fierce beauty who seemed to want nothing more than to disrupt Jon's life time and time again - even if it is perhaps meant with kindness.

Jon does not miss how Sansa's welcome smile falters slightly as she notices him approach.

"Jon! Sansa was just telling me how some of her men had managed to hunt three stags and five boar for a feast she is holding for us tonight - a much welcome change to that thin broth we've been fed on for the past three months"! Daenerys announced happily by way of greeting him.

Jon saw a flicker of irritation pinch and then disappear just as quickly upon Sansa's face. The implication being that those at Winterfell had not had such hardships.

"And a fine feast it'll be I'm sure" he started "Sansa is very skilled at making guests welcome - even in the most dire of times. I'm sure t'was nought but broth that fuelled the bellies of those lucky hunters".

Jon was pleased to see a small, grateful smile quirk on Sansa's lips, even if her eyes stayed fixed upon the stone flagged floor.

"Yes....well the fingers of war stretch far I suppose" Daenerys said dismissively.

"Indeed they do your Grace".  
Sansa said in a pleasant voice that Jon could tell was masking her irritation. "Please do excuse me, I need to see to a few of our serving girls".

Daenerys raised one brow in question.

"Not all fathers and husbands return from war your Grace" Sansa flicked her eyes momentarily towards Jon "the girls must know that they're not alone in their grief". And with a quick curtsy and a flurry of skirts she was gone.

"She's an impressive Lady" Daenerys said almost admiringly.

"Aye, she is" Jon agreed, his eyes still trained on the doorway in which she left them.

"She'll have no issues in finding a husband should you both agree to annul....if that's what you're worried about Jon" she placed her hand on his forearm.

Jon clenched his jaw, not knowing whether the uncomfortable feeling was born out of her words or action. "It's not" he said gruffly as he shrugged out of her grasp and all but stormed out of the hall. Leaving the Queen looking quite dumbfounded.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a feast, a confrontation, an even bigger confrontation and Jon's an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - this is a bit dialogue heavy!

Jon felt as though he may as well be back at the battle camp for the amount of time he had spent with Sansa - which was hardly any at all.  
  
She was avoiding him - that much was plain for him to see, although she veiled it behind the pretence of being busy with preparations for the feast.

He'll give her time, he thought. _She just needs time_.... _and if she decides she'll be happier going through with the annulment then so be it_ \- he will not stand in her way, even if it does pain him to think upon on it.

Jon tries to shake the heavy feeling sat on his chest as he dons a set of new clothing that Sansa had made for him whilst he had been away at war. He was preparing to attend the feast with no small amount of trepidation, Jon does not enjoy the gayeties of large gatherings, instead preferring to share his evenings with a few choice people - one of those who has not made herself available to him since his first day back at Winterfell. He scrubbed his face with some fresh water and tied his hair back with some oil and a leather cord before slowly making his way to the festivities.

It's surprising how warm the Great Hall can become when it is packed with bodies, all eager to drink their fill, sate their bellies and dance their feet sore. It almost feels too hot to Jon - a notion that he's sure his Aunt would find preposterous considering the Targaryen fire in his blood. She doesn't understand that there's ice in his veins also and he cannot go without the freshness of the cold.

One could almost taste the high spirits in the air. There was a loud cheer once the attendants saw Jon enter the hall, cups were raised and fists thudded at bench tables. Their war hero returned. Jon smiled, hoping it was not a grimace and waved off their attentions, wanting to somehow disappear into his chair up on the high table.

Sansa had done splendidly with the preparations. The food offered was rich and varied - a stark contrast to the rations everyone was used to in the depths of war. There were all manner of meats and stews, a plethora of pies and puddings. Sprigs of foliage decorated the tables and high beams, flickering candles twinkled everywhere throwing dancing shadows upon the walls. There were a few lute players meandering about the tables, serenading their guests. The celebration was full of promises of peace and prosperity now that the threat to the living had been vanquished and winter was gradually being chased away by spring.

The hall was packed with all manner of joyful people, not just Lords and Ladies, smallfolk and mountain clans, but a few well behaved Wildlings and the Queen's Dothraki were also present - most having stayed to celebrate in their own camps. Jon watched as some of the curious noblewomen pointed and giggled behind their hands at the 'savage horse-men' as they had come to be known.

The only aspect of this evening that Jon was truly looking forward to was being able to spend some time with Sansa - or at least know where she was and what she was doing.

Sansa herself was a whirlwind around the hall, making sure the welcome was a warm one to all her guests before she would take her seat. Jon smiled as he witnessed her curtesy low for a Dothraki Khal. His smile faltered when the Khal, in return, picked up Sansa's bright copper braid intriguingly and brought it to his nose. He then bent his head and said something to Sansa with a wicked grin upon his face. Jon almost left his seat when he saw Sansa look shocked to a deep shade of scarlet, but whatever he had said, she managed to gracefully bob her head and leave his presence, hastily moving onto the next group of visitors, leaving the Khal to snigger with his friends.

Jon was in the midst of pouring himself his second cup of ale when he sensed that the seat next to his had been occupied. He turned, expecting to see his wife by his side only to find Daenerys, looking beautifully regal as she surveyed the hall. Jon failed to hide his frown.

"Bored of my company already nephew"? She quirked a teasing brow at his expression.

"Apologies your Grace...I am not one for such festivities" Jon supplied, hoping it was a good enough excuse to mask his disappointment.

"Hmm, quite" the Silver Queen started "your cousin however" Daenerys nodded her head in Sansa's direction across the hall "seems quite adept at her hostess duties".

"Aye" Jon stifled a proud grin as his eyes followed Sansa about the room "aye, she is".

"You're quite different people, you and her - are you not? You do not not seem... close"? She pried.

Jon's frown deepened at her probing. "We are different, that's true... I'd like to think we compliment each other well" he said before taking a deep gulp from his ale, purposefully avoiding her other query. They were not close - not in the way Jon would like.

"Hmmm" was the Queen's only response, her eyes flitting between Jon and Sansa.

Sansa joined the high table then and much to Jon's dismay, seated herself the other side of Daenerys instead of to his right - a seat in which became occupied by the Queen's Hand.

"I must compliment you on your hospitality Lady Sansa, the feast is spectacular" Daenerys commented, although her tone did not match her words.

"Thank you your Grace" Sansa replied whilst filling her cup.

"You were talking to Khal Gorro"? The Queen noted.

"Yes your Grace".

"And how do you find my Dothraki war Lords my Lady"? Darnerys smirked. Jon shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"....interesting, your Grace".

"Indeed. And what was it that Khal Gorro asked you? You seemed quite perturbed... he did not offend I hope"?

"I....I'd rather not say...your Grace" Sansa replied, busying herself by pushing her food about her plate with her fork.

"Come! Do tell!.... I lived among the Dothraki for years, you'll not shock me I assure you"! The Queen urged.

"He....he..." Sansa started after a long pause "in rather broken Westerosi...he asked me if the hair on my head match the hair on my cunt" Sansa said matter-of-factly. Tyrion choked a little on his wine. Jon bristled, hand itching for Longclaw, eyes searching the crowd for the Khal in question.

"I'll have his head"! Jon snarled.

The Queen threw back her head in laughter "you'll do no such thing nephew"! Daenerys said dismissively before turning back to Sansa. "Oh they must be quite taken by you! I remember their fascination with my own hair... who knows? Perhaps you shall be Khal Gorro's next Khaleesi"! She finished with a giggle. Sansa smiled politely but did not comment. Jon's jaw ached from clenching it shut.

Pushing his chair away as he stood abruptly, Jon ignored the curious glare of the Dragon Queen as he muttered something about fresh air and made his way to the courtyard, secretly hoping to come face to face with some Dothraki shits so he could shear their battle braids from their fucking heads.

He hadn't noticed how much ale he had imbibed until the cool night air licked at his flush face and he felt a certain soft cotton feeling about his head.

He leant his heavy body against one of the walls, trying to stick to the shadows so that he could watch the other guests mill around and not be disturbed. He sighed and closed his eyes as his face reached up to the inky star filled sky.

 _You do not seem....close_ \- had been the Queen's words, and the truth in them pained him. For all the excuses he told, he berated himself for not sparing more time for his marriage before he left for battle. Perhaps they would be closer now if he had? Perhaps she would look to him lovingly instead of in question as she so often did so now.

"In need of some company my Lord"? Came a sweet voice.

Jon opened his eyes to a blond comely young noble maid who was smiling demurely at him.

"Ah...no, I'm quite fine Lady....???"

"Heartland, Glenda Heartland" she supplied with an even bigger smile.

"Ah yes, I thank you for your concern Lady Glenda, but I'm quite alright".

"A dance perhaps then? I do hope you can spare one for me"? She asked. Jon's brow furrowed, never in his life has a Lady requested a dance from him.

"Perhaps a little later.... if I'm not too into my cups that I'll make such a fool of myself my Lady" he smiled softly at the young woman.

 _After I have danced as many dances as possible with my wife,_ Jon thought.

"Or.....if it pleases you....I could keep you company in your chambers my Lord"?

"What"?!

"You chambers my Lord... I could -" she repeated sheepishly.

"I heard you!.... and no, the only company I shall keep in my chambers will be my _WIFE_ Lady Heartland"!

"But the Queen said -"

"What"? He snapped "what did the Queen say"?!

"Only that....that your marriage is soon to be dissolved and that you would be looking for a new bride" the young girl said to her boots. "It's not true then"? She asked, lifting her head.

Jon made an unintelligible northern grunt and pushed himself off of the wall and strode back into the Great Hall.

He had to calm himself, he knew, he couldn't confront the Queen in such a public setting. Jon decided not to return to his seat on the high table but to observe the revelry from an inconspicuous corner - much like he had done as a young bastard lad.

It was from there that he watched Sansa. She was talking and laughing with Willas and his father, Lord Mace Tyrell. Jon's jaw tightened when he saw Willas had the gall to place his hand affectionately on the small of her back as they spoke.

Similar behaviour followed throughout the night as Willas seemed to stay plastered to Sansa's side. Jon watched it all. He watched and he drank. His jaw ached and his knuckles were white from clenching in inaction.

Finally, he witnessed Sansa bid the Tyrell heir good night, she curtsied sweetly and Willas brushed the back of her hand with his lips. Jon didn't miss the gleam in Tyrell's eye or the face that his father clapped him in the back in congratulation when he made his way back to him. Jon decided to stumble after Sansa.

***********

"Jon what are you-" Sansa said after realising he'd followed her back to her solar.

"Couldn't wait to move on then I see" Jon spat as he closed the door behind him, his rage thoroughly mixed with wine and ale.

"What are you talking about"? Sansa retorted as she made a move to brush past him and flee. Jon was having none of it as he curled a hand around her upper arm, forcing Sansa to stay.

"Willas Fucking Tyrell" he slurred.

"What about him"? Sansa snapped, violently shrugging out of Jon's grasp.

"You two seemed very.....comfortable in each others company....talked with him most the evening".

"I was being polite Jon!....What exactly is your problem with Willas"? Sansa's irritation was practically boiling over by now as she balled her fists at her sides.

"Dany has suggested him as your new husband hasn't she"?

Sansa's eyes narrowed "yes, 'Dany' has" she said, elongating the pronunciation of the Queen's name with contempt.

Jon gaped at her for a moment. There was as much defiance in her eyes as there is fire in her hair. She was breathing heavily, causing her chest to move up and down with each angry inhale and exhale. Jon was reminded of that one afternoon many moons ago when he had her panting for a very different reason.

"The Reach Sansa? You'd consider leaving Winterfell"? He asked, trying desperately to calm himself. He knew his anger would get him nowhere.

"I don't see what other option I have Jon!...or am I expected to stay and become firm friends with your new bride?..... I'm surprised really - I thought you would have the good grace to feel guilty"!

"Guilty"?

"Yes Jon! You've used me"! Sansa yelled so hard she was shaking. "You could have told me Jon! You could have told me that I was just to be a pawn in this war where you were to become the great hero! I was a bargaining chip to gain support from your Queen and use of her dragons - nothing more"!

Sansa looked as though she was choking back a sob. No tears fell - a certain resigned fierceness overtook her, not allowing any weakness to show itself. Jon was frozen, caught between sifting through the most appropriate words in his mind and staring at his wife, this woman of the North, this Wolfmaiden, blood of Winterfell.

"You could have told me" Sansa huffed when she got no reaction from him. "I would not have been completely adverse to your plan - I've long come to terms that no one shall marry me for love".

"Sansa I-"

"No Jon"! Sansa held up a slightly trembling silencing hand. "Tell me truthfully, when we wed, you did not love me as a man loves a woman, but did you ever see yourself coming to do so"?

Neither of them moved, Jon did not want to answer, for answering her truthfully was as painful a prospect for him as it surely would be for her. He did not feel for her that way at the time, his mind was too occupied with death and strategy - there had been some truth to Sansa's words, she had been a pawn in some way. She took his silence as confirmation of her words.

"You could have told me" she repeated again with her eyes closed. "You needn't have humoured me with the few visits to my chambers you graced me with. Gods Jon! What if I had conceived?! What would you have done? Kept me and your lover? Or were you so convinced of your skills of persuasion that you thought you could get your annulment anyway? And here I'd be, losing my husband to his next wife and my child to a mad dragon Queen"! Try as she may, that sad thought had bid a few tears to fall and roll down her flaming cheeks. "What was that on that last day before you left? When we tried for the last time? Humouring me again? Pitying me"?!

"Sansa I didn't -" Jon made a move to close the gap between them. He wanted to brush her tears away, he wanted to set this all straight. She had it wrong! So, so wrong!

"No Jon"! Sansa caught his hand by his wrist where it stopped in mid air on its way to cup her cheek "I shall not shed anymore tears for you my Lord - for I'm sure none were shed for me during your many moons planning with 'Dany' on how to be rid of me"!

"Sansa please"!

"Spare me your pity Lord Targaryen, I have no use for it". Sansa spat dangerously. Jon witnessed the very moment she closed herself off from him. Strong. Resolute. Unwavering.

"Sansa"! Jon pleaded but it was for nought, she had already fled with her head held high, unwilling to look back.

***********

Jon awoke late at around midday. His head felt full of fuzzy wool and pain. The light from the winter sun thumping its way through the window and jabbing his eyes.

He moved slowly, groaning with each movement before he was groaning for an entirely different reason. Memories. Memories of the pain in Sansa's eyes and the hurt in her angry words. He had to set this right with her, he had to find her.

Splashing his face with icy water from his basin did the trick for renewing his skin and his spirits. He will find Sansa, he will tell her how he feels, truly. He will lay his heart bare to her and hope she would not stomp all over it but rather learn to care for it and put trust in him that he could make her love him. _He could do that, couldn't he? Make her love him?_

He donned yet another new tunic by Sansa's hand. This one was dark navy and very finely decorated with silver thread depicting a direwolf head with red eyes on his left breast. In truth, this tunic was finer than the one he wore to the feast last night and probably suited the occasion better. However this felt more important, more worthy.

Jon wandered the short distance to her solar silently concocting and rehearsing phrases to get his pleading point across. He was both surprised and irritated to find that Sansa was not alone in her solar after he knocked and opened the heavy oak door.

Sansa was sat at her large circular table where she likes to break her fast. Sat with her was Queen Daenerys, her Hand - Tyrion Lannister and Willas Tyrell.

Jon's eyes narrowed and something in his belly boiled when he took notice of Willas' arm draped around the backrest of Sansa's chair.

"Lord Targaryen"! the imp greeted "how good of you to join us! We were beginning to think you would prefer to sleep away the day"!

Willas chuckled. Jon sent him a menacing glare causing him to straighten in his seat and retract his arm from Sansa's chair.

"Forgive me my Lord, I was unaware of the gathering or I would have attended from the very beginning....pray tell, to what are we discussing"? Jon shifted his gaze between the Queen and Sansa as he leant his weight on his fingertips where they splayed across the table top.

"Apologies, I thought you had been sent an invitation " Tyrion said before eying the Queen. "We are discussing this" he concluded, clearing his throat whilst pushing a piece of parchment across the table towards Jon.

"The terms of your annulment" the Queen clarified in a crisp clear voice. Jon took the paper and without reading a single word his eyes flitted from the parchment to Sansa.

"Is this what you want"? Jon asked her, eyes boring in to hers, trying to silently communicate his own desire for her to reject the proposal.

"Well -"

"Of course she does"! Daenerys interrupted "she is free to choose her next husband with the full backing of the crown" she paused to smile at Willas "and I have added to her dowry considerab-".

"OH FUCK OFF DANY"! Jon exclaimed, temper thoroughly frayed as he pushed away from the table. All other participants in the meeting looked beyond shocked.

"Jon"! Sansa yelled, rising from her chair.

"My apologies" Jon's jaw clenched "fuck off, _your Grace_ " Jon ended in a mock bow.

"What is the meaning of this"?! Daenerys demanded as she rose from her chair.

"Now, now, I'm sure Lord Targaryen is just tired..."Tyrion supplied with both his arms outstretched as if he were ready to keep nephew and aunt from throttling one another "...and perhaps still a little drunk... he out-drank even me last night so I wouldn't be surprised-".

"I'm quite sound of mind my Lord and I wish to speak freely" Jon started.

"That's evident" Willas sniggered but abruptly shut up when he received glares from both Targaryens.

"Please nephew, do continue... I should like to know the subject matter that has convinced you that addressing me in such a manner is deemed acceptable" the Queen said cooly and not without threat.

Jon licked his lips and stared at Sansa's concerned face. "We will not be accepting the terms of the annulment... or any other as a matter of fact...Sansa will remain MY wife" he shot Willas a look "....and I shall endeavour to be worthy of her and win her affections". Sansa sucked in a shaky breath and continued to stare at Jon.

Jon turned to Daenerys "we shall not be sending our children to you in King's Landing, they shall know a full childhood in the snows of the North..." the Queen raised an incredulous brow before Jon continued "we will concede to accompanying them to the capital for short stays and they will be allowed to refuse the burden of the Iron Throne should they have no wish to sit upon it" Jon finished with fire in his eyes and resolution behind his words.

"You would go against our arrangement?!... what makes you think I would agree to such a thing"? The Queen said in a low voice.

"The way I see it your Grace, you don't have much of a choice" Jon remarked.

"Our agreement was that I would bring my Dothraki, my Unsullied and my dragons to fight beyond the wall and in return -" Daenerys' building rant was cut off.

"And what kind of ruler would you be if you hadn't? If you had left your subjects to fend for themselves against the dead? You would have moved north to join the battle at some point your Grace, our agreement just sped up the process".

Everyone looked to the dragon Queen who looked ready to boil over.

"You WILL adhere to our previous agreement or I shall-"

"Feed me to your dragons?... as the sole person who can make your heirs, I think not" Jon finished with a minute grin.

"Perhaps not nephew"Daenerys growled "but don't forget I can burn those you hold dear" the Queen looked at Sansa.

"Are you threatening my wife"?! Jon exclaimed, his hand going to the pommel of Longclaw. The movement was not missed by Tyrion.

"No one is threatening anyone" the imp shouted quickly "please" he implored, looking to the Queen "the new demands are not unreasonable...I beg that we retire to consider them before any decisions are made".

The Queen stared stonily at Jon for what seemed like an eternity before she gave a tiny nod and moved to leave the solar, closely followed by her Hand.

"Leave" Jon commanded angrily at the Heir to Highgarden, practically growling at him as he hurried past as fast as his affected leg would take him.

The two remaining people left in the large room stood staring at each other, not knowing how to proceed.

"Jon" Sansa finally broke the silence.

Her voice spurred him into action. Jon made three big strides and took her into a tight embrace as he silenced her gasp with his mouth hungrily on hers. Sansa did not respond for the first few moment before seemingly melting into his attentions. Jon groaned and moved his mouth down to her neck where he began his begging between presses of lip and tongue and teeth.

"Sansa... _kiss_...please... _kiss_...I'm so sorry Sansa... _lick_....please forgive me... _kiss_...I never wanted this annulment... _nibble_...please say that you don't either... _lick_...please sweetheart..... _lick_....say you're still mine Sansa...please...I love you sweet girl... _kiss_...sweet Sansa... _lick_...my Sansa".

Sansa had been enjoying Jon's attentions and cooing despite her confusion, but now she pushed him away to look him in the eye. "You love me"?

"Yes" he breathed, his lips red from the force of his initial kiss and his hair disheveled from Sansa's grasping.

"But I..."

"You were right - much to my shame... in the beginning, when we first wed...I...I did it to gain the Queens support in battle...I used you Sansa, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for it.... but I love you...I want you...I want to share a home with you and for you to carry my children...for us to raise them together...this annulment - I had no part in it I swear, it was the Queen's suggestion because she believed we could find more happiness in other unions. But I can't Sansa, please..." Jon ended breathlessly. Sansa studied him while he panted from emotion, the air between them growing thick.

"Why didn't you just tell me"? She whispered.

"I...I thought you might want a way out... that I owed you the chance to be happy with someone else if it pleased you" Jon said in a rush, scanning her face.

"And you're not willing to give me that chance now"? Sansa asked. Jon felt like his stomach had dropped through the floor.

"I...I am...if it's what you really want....I can't say that I can bear the thought of another man touching you though". Jon admitted, raking a shaky hand through his hair.

"You should have told me" Sansa said quietly, looking at the floor.

"Aye" he agreed "aye, I'm an idiot" he huffed looking about the room ashamedly.

Sansa suddenly moved closer "you are an idiot" she whispered in agreement, her breath tickling his skin "but you're my idiot". She smiled. It took a while for Jon to register her words but once he did, he beamed back at her and gathered her in his arms for another passionate kiss.

Their hands roamed each other's bodies, Jon resumed his ravenous attentions to Sansa's throat, making her moan and rub against him. He started walking her back towards her bedchamber.

"Jon"?

"I want to make love to my wife" he murmured behind her earlobe. Sansa shivered.

"Jon, it's the middle of the day! And Queen Daenerys-" Sansa protested weakly.

"Queen Daenerys can fuck off"!

 

 


End file.
